


Watch Us (Until We Blur)

by fnowae



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Getting Together, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, no idea what else to tag this lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fnowae/pseuds/fnowae
Summary: Perhaps he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.---In which Patrick is tugged into a reality show by a poorly made decision fueled by hatred for a homophobic executive producer.





	Watch Us (Until We Blur)

**Author's Note:**

> What the fuck am I doing anymore. 
> 
> Well, since I finished SOL, I decided to ignore all my other fics and start something new. So here it is. Wow. Wild. 
> 
> Enjoy ?

Patrick can't say he's surprised when a guy walks into the coffee shop he works at followed by a camera crew. 

Patrick lives in L.A., for fuck's sake, every other block there's someone filming a reality show. He just sighs and does his best to act bored. The last thing he wants to do is give them a reason to put _him_ in the show - he's watched as many a boring civilian have their lives ruined by being the tiniest bit rude - or god forbid, _friendly_ \- to some person from a reality show and suddenly finding their action blown far out of proportion, for better or for worse. Mostly for worse. 

Patrick is not going to let himself become one of those people. 

He holds out hope that he's not even going to have to talk to the guy, but the man who is becoming increasingly likely in Patrick's eyes to be another asshole reality star is heading straight for the front counter. 

Patrick considers asking one of his coworkers to take his shift, but the only other person working at the moment is his friend Andy, and Andy is set on making the coffees, leaving Patrick stranded at the register. 

Patrick forces a pained smile onto his face as the visitor approaches, conglomeration of camerapeople in tow. "Welcome to Coffee For Closers, what can I get you?" he drawls, doing his best imitation of apathy, even when the guy standing in front of him smiles warmly and pushes up his sunglasses, revealing crystalline blue eyes that, admittedly, make Patrick's heart skip a beat. The glasses get caught momentarily in the guy's curly mess of hair, and he laughs as he untangles them and shoves them into his pocket instead. 

This guy is a reality star and probably an asshole, Patrick reminds himself. He needs to remain vigilant and disinterested. It's necessary for his fucking survival. Or something like that. 

Looking indecisive, the guy examines the huge chalkboard menu on the wall behind Patrick and makes thoughtful noises under his breath. Finally, just when Patrick is about to snap at him and ruin his apathetic facade, he speaks. 

"I'll just have a latte, thanks," he says. It really doesn't help that he sounds so fucking _nice_ , totally ruining Patrick's certainty that all television stars are inherently assholes. 

"Sure, what size?" Patrick winces when he lets a bit of admiration into his voice. No. Stop that. No emotion, no reaction. He's going to get through this interaction without singling himself out to the cameras as an interesting topic, because he is not becoming just another face on the television. 

"Just small, please." The guy beams down at Patrick. God, he's tall. Or at least, tall compared to Patrick. Actually, come to think of it, everyone is tall compared to Patrick. But the observation still stands. 

Patrick nods noncommittally, entering the order into the register. "Right, okay. That'll be three eighty-nine."

The guy gives Patrick what looks like an adoring look, but that makes no sense, because reality stars are all assholes and would never look at lowlives like Patrick with anything positive in the least, so Patrick decides it must actually be veiled contempt. 

At least, he holds onto this explanation up to the point when the guy hands Patrick a fifty and says, "Keep the change."

Patrick gapes at the money in his hand. With his short shifts at minimum wage, this is more than he makes in a single day. He looks back up to the guy skeptically. "Uh, dude, you...really don't need to do that."

"You deserve it more than I do," the guy tells him kindly, and smiles again to boot, and Patrick's insides are melting even as his brain tries to remind him that this can't be right, this guy _has_ to be an asshole. There's simply no other option. 

"Besides," the guy adds, sealing Patrick's fate for good, "you're the cutest barista I've ever seen. I think you deserve the tip."

Patrick goes red, trying to stammer out a response to that, because oh god, this guy is _hitting on him_ , and he doesn't know what to say next, so what comes out is, "I - I'm really not-"

"You are." Fucking hell, this guy is way too nice to be a reality star. Maybe the cameras are trailing someone else. Patrick surveys the shop, trying to spot someone else the lenses could be pointing at, but no one else is even in the shop in the first place. 

Fuck, okay. 

"Uh. Okay," Patrick says weakly, unsure how else to react. The surprisingly nice reality star is still grinning at him. He is going to die right here in the coffee shop and this is how it's going to end. He will collapse, lifeless behind this counter in front of this, if he's being honest, _very attractive_ and probably very famous guy who is currently hitting on him. 

Making everything basically a billion times worse, the guy cocks his head to the side inquisitively and asks, "Want to go out to dinner sometime?"

Patrick's jaw drops, because he did _not_ just get asked out. Nope. No way. He has been _very careful_ about not being interesting. He has tried to keep his voice flat and his face expressionless and his personality nonexistent for this _very reason_ , but apparently it was all for nothing, because not only is he definitely not avoiding the cameras right now, he has also just been _asked out_. He scrambles vaguely for some excuse to say no, and ends up with, "Dude, no offense, but I don't even know your name!"

The guy looks surprised that Patrick doesn't recognize him, but - fuck, he manages to not even look like an asshole while doing it! Patrick is going to kill someone out of frustration if this keeps up. Is it possible this guy is actually a reality star...and a decent person at the same time?

No. Never. 

"I'm Joe," the guy introduces himself after a beat of silence. 

"Patrick," Patrick introduces himself weakly, even though he knows giving his name is the final nail in the coffin of his dignity. 

"Okay, Patrick, let me try this again," Joe says, his stupid fucking warm smile still firmly in place. "Want to go out for dinner sometime?"

Patrick takes a deep breath. He can't accept this. Going on a date with someone who is constantly under monitor by relentless cameras and microphones and the like is synonymous to accepting his own death. He will never have a scrap of privacy again as long as he lives, and he knows it. And Joe probably isn't as nice as he seems. It's impossible. So why the fuck would Patrick accept this ridiculous proposition? He has to say no. He has to say-

"Sure."

Let it be said that Patrick is one of those idiots whose heart often overpowers the rational side of his mind. He needs to fix that sometime, because it seems to fuck him over a lot. 

Joe's grin widens, and he looks - relieved? Patrick can't understand why he would be relieved - why would some super attractive famous guy feel relief when a lowly coffee shop worker like Patrick agrees to go on a date? It's not like Joe would've ever doubted that Patrick would agree, and it's also not like he actually cares about Patrick going out with him. _It's not like he's legitimately into Patrick or anything._

"Great! Is - is tonight too soon?" Joe asks, looking kind of embarrassed, and oh god, yeah, he is totally not an asshole. Patrick is the asshole here for making assumptions. He forces himself to ignore the cameras as he answers. 

"I'm never busy, man. Sure." He shrugs, as if he agrees to dates with super attractive but also super sweet reality TV stars all the time. As if this means nothing to him. 

Fucking hell, it means everything. 

Joe is still fucking grinning at him. "When do you get off work?"

Patrick checks the clock. It's six. He gets off at seven. He opens his mouth to say this, but he's cut off by a voice from his left. 

"Patrick, take the rest of the day off," Andy calls from where he's busy making Joe's coffee - Patrick had honestly forgotten he was there. "It's fine."

Patrick throws him a look and asks, "Are you sure?" He feels bad leaving his friend to run the shop by himself. 

"Yes, I'm sure," Andy tells him, nodding. "No one is here, you idiot. Go ahead. Have fun."

"Thank you, Andy," Patrick says, surprised when relief floods him at the prospect of being able to leave sooner. Oh god, he's - he's actually _excited_ for this. 

Patrick thinks his emotions need to shut the fuck up. 

Patrick pulls off his name tag, storing it under the counter where all the workers keep them. There used to be a board for them in back, but everyone quickly found that it was so much quicker to stick them in the empty drawer under the register. The drawer is no longer empty, and Patrick's name lands with a clang among others like _Marcia_ and _Jenny_. He shoves the drawer shut and steps out behind the counter, and-

"CUT! FUCKING CUT!" someone screams from further back in the shop. A short woman in a fitted red suit with dark hair pulled back in a bun so tight that it looks actually painful storms up to them, face red. The cameras drop as she marches past. "That was NOT the plan!"

Joe bristles, friendly demeanor gone as he whirls on her and spits out, "You know what? Fuck your plan! It's not a very good _reality show_ if nothing I do is real!"

Patrick suddenly feels very lost in this tidal wave of a mood shift. He backs up a little, bumping into the counter behind him, and is stuck there, watching the exchange in front of him with wide eyes. 

"It's not supposed to be!" the woman interjects haughtily, wagging a finger at Joe angrily. "Do you know what this will do for the ratings?"

"It will be _great_ for the ratings!" Joe bites back, scowling at the woman - after watching a couple seconds of this, Patrick thinks she must be the producer or something like that. Some higher-up with authoritative power. 

"We have a love interest ready for you!" the woman insists belligerently, crossing her arms. 

"For the last fucking time, stop trying to set me up with girls!" Joe yells, making an annoyed noise. "I'm _gay_ , Helen!"

Patrick tries to shrink back further, but to no avail. The counter digs painfully into his back. He feels very, very out of place, surrounded by strangers holding cameras and accosted by the shouting match in front of him. 

The woman - Helen - wrinkles her nose. "I don't care! This isn't how the show is set to go!"

"Fuck how the show is set to go!" Joe cries, and Patrick is pretty sure his entire vocabulary right now consists of "fuck [whatever Helen has said last]". Not that he doesn't agree with that limited word choice, but. Wow. It's a lot. 

Joe turns back to Patrick, which surprises Patrick, because he'd just started to get used to trying to disappear from view as Joe and Helen went off on each other. Joe says, voice surprisingly calm and level, "Patrick, come on, we are going on a date right this second, because Helen can go fuck herself and I still think you're cute."

"I'm right _here_ , Joe!" Helen cries, her tone offended. 

"Uh," Patrick says weakly, eyes still as wide as they can go. He tries to say something else, but the words don't want to come out. He's so, so fucking lost in this situation. 

"You can't do that!" Helen proclaims loudly, waving a finger again. "Take him on a date if you fucking want, but the cameras aren't allowed to follow you if he's not officially signed on to the show! You can't plaster this shit all over the network unless he's signed an official contract! So nice fucking try!"

Joe takes a deep breath and regards Helen with contempt. "Alright," he says, "that's great. I know you keep those contracts with you at all times in case you find a nice, pretty girl to sign on. So hand one over, then. I can sign a cute guy on, too. Let's fucking settle this."

Patrick blanches at the suggestion, and he shakes his head, stuttering, "Uh, no, I - I don't think-"

Joe's face softens immediately, and he looks back to Patrick, concerned. "I'm sorry, it's okay, you don't need to. I shouldn't make your decisions for you. That's how I got myself into this mess in the first place."

Patrick stands stock still, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. He looks at Joe, eyes wide and hopeful, a weak optimistic smile still clinging on his face, and then to Helen, still looking pissed, glaring at Patrick like she's decided she already hates him. 

He takes a deep breath. Fuck it. 

"I'll do it," he says before he can regret it. 

Joe's face lights up and he calls back into the sea of camerapeople, "Hey, who's got the-"

"Got it!" one of the crew yells, rushing forward with a set of papers in his hands. It's not extremely long or terrifying, which Patrick hopes is a good sign. 

" _Wentz_ , don't you dare," Helen hisses, but the crew member just beams at her and shrugs.

"If he signs it there's nothing you can do. So, uh, fuck you, Helen," he says cheerfully, thrusting the papers at Patrick, who accepts them cautiously. 

The crew member turns to Patrick and grins at him. "I'm Pete. I like you. Helen can go fuck herself."

"Uh, cool?" Patrick responds, looking down at the paper clutched tightly in his hands. 

"You really don't have to-" Joe starts again, apprehensive, but Patrick shakes his head, letting an actual smile works its way across his face as he watches Helen's face go even redder. 

"No," he says vindictively, "I think I will."

**Author's Note:**

> Let's see where this goes. 
> 
> And here's my traditional end notes rambling:
> 
> \- hmu with ideas/prompts/headcanons/whatever at my Tumblr, vicesandvelociraptors!  
> \- not to beg, but comments are seriously what keeps me writing. so if you like this...TELL ME !  
> \- and finally...thanks for reading!


End file.
